


Yours

by kissesinthekitchen



Category: Fine Line - Harry Styles (Album), Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Doggy Style, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Hair Pulling, Harry Styles - Freeform, Harry Styles x Reader, Harry Styles x You, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22436629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissesinthekitchen/pseuds/kissesinthekitchen
Summary: The guilty look on Harry’s face that greets you when you return from the bathroom is all you need to know.“What?” you ask him, as you place your purse down and scoot back into the booth to be close to him again.You spot the folded piece of paper sitting in front of him and swallow hard. You have a feeling you already know what it is. You pluck the piece of paper off the table and watch the digits of a phone number unfold slowly between your hands.“Oh, this bitch-” you say, already trying to rise from the seat to find her face from between the other diners.“Y/N,” Harry says, and his voice sounds like a gravely warning. His hand is gripping your wrist already. “Baby.Sit down.”Your blood is boiling. You feel something akin to wanting to slap her and wanting to close the distance between you and Harry by straddling his lap right now, like some kind of animal holding down its mate - something, anything - to prove he’s yours. Something that sayshe’s mine.----Or the one where a flirty waitress oversteps her boundaries and you want to remind Harry who he belongs to.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s), Harry Styles/Reader, Harry Styles/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 151





	Yours

Harry always treats food like a peace offering. 

Once, when you had a conference to attend out of state on your birthday, he paid for a buffet of Mexican food to be catered and sent to the hotel you and some of your friends from the department were staying at. Complete with a birthday cake, so you knew he was thinking of you. And another time, when he was in France working on something for Gucci and you couldn’t get off work to join him because of a bunch of parent-teacher meetings, he had an extravagant box of French macarons and pink tulips shipped overnight from Paris just so he could Facetime you from the same cafe later, so it could be like you were there together. When you’re upset, when you miss him, when you want to reconnect, it’s always either in bed or over a good meal. 

Today, he had chosen a sunlit fancy Italian bistro with high ceilings, and green ivy plants and glass chandeliers clinging to each other for decoration. White and brick red speckled walls. Harry had squeezed your hand as a host led you to a booth towards the back of the restaurant.

The food they serve tastes as good as it looks. Crunchy bruschetta with sweet basil and tomatoes. Soft pillows of warm gnocchi served over roasted butternut squash and crispy fried herbs and salty pancetta. For entrees, you’d ordered a zesty lemon chicken piccata with capers, while Harry ordered a delicious eggplant parmesan. And together, you’d decided to share an order of linguine with clams - just because you couldn’t help yourself. Harry loves food, but more than that, he loves seeing how much you love food. If anyone asks, he’d probably say that your love language is trying new restaurants together. 

And yet, while the food and the ambiance - there’s nothing like watching Harry’s face over candlelight- had been amazing, you’re sure this has still probably got to be one of the worst meals you’ve ever had.

This is confirmed later. If the guilty look on Harry’s face that greets you when you return from the washroom is all you need to know. 

“What?” you ask him, as you place your purse down and scoot back into the booth to be close to him again.

You spot the folded piece of paper sitting in front of him and swallow hard. You have a feeling you already know what it is. 

Harry is resting his face in the palm of his hand. Loose curls framing his face, the top buttons of his black shirt unbuttoned beneath a soft velvet jacket of the same color. He looks relaxed, if not, a little amused. 

You pluck the piece of paper off the table and watch the digits of a phone number unfold slowly between your hands. 

“Oh, this bitch-” you say, already trying to rise from the seat to find her face from between the other diners.

“Y/N,” Harry says, and his voice sounds like a gravely warning. His hand is gripping your wrist already. “ _Baby._ Sit down.”

It’s been more than an hour of this. The waitress offering Harry one sided conversation and squeezing his bicep and biting her lip and treating you like you’re fucking invisible. You feel like you already know too much about her. 

Her name is Giselle _because of course it is._ Her sweeping blonde hair cascades down over her shoulders in a way that makes you feel a pang in your chest because - _and you’ll never say this outloud but-_ she reminds you of a model, reminds you of so many of Harry’s exes. The women who used to rent space in his head and in his bed.The women he loved and wrote songs about before he met you. 

You can’t help but flinch and grit your teeth every time she tries to make a move on Harry. She declares that she always wanted to study abroad in London. She saw One Direction three times when they were together. She licks her lips and asks Harry if he needs help finding places to go or stay while he’s in town, in a voice that makes you feel like she means her bed. And she frowns when Harry tries to bring you into the conversation, you’re like ninety-nine percent sure she scoffed when he said you were a teacher. The audacity of it all. 

It’s not that you’re surprised. Harry is well, _Harry._ You’re used to sharing him with most of the world. He’s got the biggest heart you know, and he’s a huge flirt. Women are drawn to him like mosquitos are to blood. But you never thought you’d have to deal with another girl on the night you’re celebrating your _engagement._ Maybe Harry was right to have tried to persuade you to stay home, in bed with takeout- that would have required much less sulking. 

To his credit, Harry brushes her off, but he’s still entirely too polite. When she places a hand on his shoulder to give him the wine menu, he gives her a solemn nod. When she cups his hands in hers and throws a wink over her shoulder as she walks away, he politely wrenches his hand away and throws her back a look that is something caught between a frown and a smile as he meets your eyes. 

“She really did it.”

“Darling-” he starts. 

“She really fucking did it.” you say, appalled and irritated. Your blood is boiling. You feel something akin to wanting to slap her and wanting to close the distance between you and Harry by straddling his lap right now, like some kind of animal holding down its mate - something, anything - to prove he’s yours. Something that says _he’s mine._

“You’re jealous,” Harry says. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” you say quickly. The brightness in his eyes seems to grow at your quip, and you almost feel like slapping him now. 

“Oh baby,” he says, his arm reaching around to cling to the part of the booth that is behind your neck.

“What can I do baby? How can I make it better?” he chuckles in your ear, when you cross your arms around your chest and let out a frustrated huff like an irritated child. “How can I turn this frown upside down?” His fingers graze the spot where your eyebrows have pinched together. 

You wring the napkin in your hands. “Oh fuck off, Harry-“ 

“M’serious love,” but there is amusement in his face and you feel like elbowing him in the chest right now. “How do I show you that you don’t have any reason to be jealous?” 

A moment passes, your nails are tapping impatiently against the throat of your wine glass before you hear Harry’s low voice tell you to look at him. 

“Should I fuck you here?” he raises an eyebrow, his grip on you tightening. The broadness of his back moving so he’s blocking you from view. “Would that show you, sweetheart?”

“Stop making fun of me.” 

He moves closer. “M’I’m not. Promise. Bit cute, actually. Seein’ you get all riled up.” He flashes you a heated look, the kind he usually saves for when you’re behind closed doors and his voice sounds choked. “Kind of makes my cock hard, if I’m bein’ honest. Seein’ you so jealous.”

“Harry,” you try to chastise him, but your voice just sounds just as broken. “Someone could see-” You know you aren’t the only one who spotted at least two or three photographers outside when you walked in here. 

He makes a gesture of sweeping the room with his eyes. “Everyone’s eatin.’ No one’s payin’ attention to us. ‘Sides. Noticed you didn’t say no...”

“Baby-” you try to halt him as he reaches for you then. His eyes holding your wide gaze as his hand lifts the end of your dress. 

“Tell me that if I slide my hand up, I won’t find you wet already?” 

“Harry,” you croak, your voice shaking. Your fingers stop on his wrist and his eyes still. 

A beat passes before you admit - “Harry, I’m _soaked._ ” 

Harry watches the way your nervous demeanor melts into a grin before he grabs you. 

“Fuckin’ hell. Come here, you minx,” he closes the inch of distance between you to kiss you hard, his tongue swiping against yours. Your hands grasp his face before winding around his neck. 

Your teeth dig into his jacket, in the spot where his neck and shoulder meet, to muffle your moaning when you feel him dip two of his fingers inside of you. 

He grunts. “Are you gonna come for me, honey? Fuck. Gonna come all over my fingers in front of everyone?” That makes you gasp, goosebumps rising on your skin as you listen dimly to the noise of silverware banging on plates and drinks being poured, the shuffle of the waiters walking, and music on the street as day fades into night in front of the windows. 

“Harry-” you try to reason, even though your thighs are parting wider on their own accord and the grip you have on his hands is nothing but for show now. 

“‘Am having my dessert, woman,” he chuckles against your cheek, his lips and tongue swiping against your earlobe. “Let me have my dessert, hmm?”

He’s knuckles deep into you, the rings on his hand brushing against your mound. But you’re still aching, still want more of him. Your nails dig into his shoulder as you beg, “Harry. I want to be full. Make me full, Harry. “

“I know baby, I know.” He soothes you by adding a third finger, and swiping his thumb back and forth against your clit. And it feels so good, your back arches closer to his tough and your thighs clench. 

“God-” you gasp at feeling him so deep. You’re trying to control your breathing, but your cunt feels so tight around his fingers. You feel dizzy with how much you want him and need him and how much he’s giving you. 

“Feels good, yeah? Ya gonna come already, lovie?” He smiles, the dimples in his cheeks deepening. “Squeezin’ my fingers so tight. Feels just like when you’re grippin’ my cock when I’m inside of you, huh? You want to come so bad. You look so beautiful.”

“Don’t stop Harry. Don’t stop. I’m almost-Fuck”

“I can feel you,” he says. “Beg me, Y/N. Then I’ll let you. I’ll make you come. I promise. Just need to hear you say it. Use your words, baby.”

“Oh fuck you-“ you tell him, your voice caught in a crossroads between amusement and want. 

He smiles. “You will. But I need you to come for me first.”

He watches as you writhe beside him and you stare back through heavy lidded eyes as he works you towards your orgasm. He looks beautiful like this, really, his soft mouth wet and open. The hint of a smile on his lips. And the green of his eyes looking all the more dark and endless and intense under candlelight. Strands of his hair are shaking with the force of his arm as his hand moves beneath the skirt of your dress. 

And then it happens - you’re babbling. Half mad with the need to come. “Harry. Please Harry. Please. Please let me come.”

You can feel the sweat on the back of your thighs. Harry’s grip is so tight that your skirt is almost bunched up around your hips where you’re grateful the table is covering you from view. And your legs are shaking, hips bucking up to meet Harry’s fingers and shifting back against the leather of your seat. 

“Gettin’ my fingers _so_ wet, love. Fuckin’ me so well. Can you come now baby? Come so I can fuck you all good and proper like.”

“Harry-” you sigh. Your eyebrows knitting together, your lips trying to form a warning. You squeeze the shoulder of his velvet jacket with your fingers before your eyes roll back. “I’m coming-I’m coming-”

To keep you from screaming, he smothers your lips with his mouth. You kiss him - all lips and tongue and teeth- before burying your head in his neck, exhausted, muffling your noises with his skin. 

It hits you hard again and again, and he keeps fucking you through it. His fingers relentlessly hitting that soft, tender part inside of you that makes you want to scream every time he touches it with his fingers or his tongue or his cock. Dimly, you’re aware of him talking you through it too - telling you how beautiful you are, how perfect, how amazing, in between his own gasps of “Come on. Yeah. Yeah. Yes-” It’s as if Harry needs to see you come as much as you need to feel it. 

You let out a frustrated groan when he finally slips his fingers from your cunt, frowning at feeling so empty without him. But you’re grateful when he takes pity on you by kissing you. 

“Did so well for me, pet,” he says. He tenderly presses his fingers - that are not covered in your wetness- to pull your cheek close so he can press his mouth against your forehead where you’re sweaty and strands of your hair have escaped. You feel like jelly, which only amuses Harry even more. “Mmm.” 

_“Harry.”_ You say, slapping his forearm lightly as he makes a show of sucking his fingers into his mouth, peering up at you from his eyelashes so you can watch him lap the taste of you from his hand. Somehow the sight feels even dirtier than having just had his hand between your thighs or coming in public. You try to fix an annoyed or stern look on your face but it only makes Harry laugh harder. 

“Did you get to pick dessert, Mr. Styles?” 

“Oh shit-”

His arm is gripping the back of your seat as he turns around to face Giselle. 

“I’m sorry?” she says.

“We’ll pass on that,” Harry says, glancing down to the menu on the table. “My _fiancé_ seems to be feeling a little ill. Where’s the nearest loo again?”

The misstep seems to catch her off guard and it makes you laugh from your place against the seat, Harry’s large hand smoothing back and forth on your knee as if to tell you down, girl. 

She clears her throat, an annoyed look passing her eyes. “Down the hall. Last door on the right.”

You’re both laughing as you all but run to the bathroom, Harry’s front colliding with your back. His long arms winding around your waist as both of your hands push the door open. He kisses you hard as you try to untangle yourself an inch to lock the door. 

It’s raw and filthy like this. Harry kneeling on the floor for a second. Pushing down your underwear. Grasping the end of your dress and pulling it tight around your hips, long enough to spread you back against him and stare at where you are still swollen and wet and aching. Clenching around nothing there. 

“ _Oh baby,_ ” he says, a hint of real concern in his throat. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

You twist back to hold him by his hair. He grips you by the hips and then cranes his neck forward to kiss and lick between your thighs, tongue gliding between the folds of your pussy lips in a way that has your back bowing it feels so good. 

“ _Honey,_ ” you whine. “ _Harry, please-_ ”

He chuckles, leaning back to press a soft bite to the cheek of your ass before standing to his full height again. You turn long enough in his embrace to reach for his pants, unbuckling his belt and zipper without breaking eye contact. His arms are on the wall behind you, caging you in and he’s smirking. You know how much he loves this, having you undress him. 

When your hands are done, he looms forward, his body pressing you back against the sink. “Just wanted to give you a kiss.” He laughs. “Turn around for me, love. S’gonna be hard and fast. Just like you need it. Isn’t that right?”

“Please,” you keen. 

You shiver as you feel and hear him take himself into his hand. He spits on his cock and then there’s the wet, telltale push and pull sound of him jerking himself off. It gives you goosebumps. You widen your stance, trying to balance yourself on your heels, and he presses a soothing hand against your back to keep you still as he slides inside of you in one smooth movement. 

_God._ You want to scream with relief. He feels so much deeper from this angle. Heavier. Bigger. Like you can feel him in your belly. 

One of Harry’s hands clings to yours on the sink, the heavy rings on his fingers gripping your knuckles as he bends you over. His cock feels heavy, and you feel impossibly full at this angle. 

“Ya with me love? Hmm?” He kisses the naked skin of your back and throat where your dress is exposed and you grin, meeting his face in the mirror.

“Always.”

“Fuck me back, baby.” Harry begs you, his voice needy and raw. “Fuck me back.” 

His hands don’t stop, incessantly pushing into grope your breasts. His mouth hot and wet on your neck. 

Your eyes flutter close, you love how low and gritty his voice gets when he’s this deep. It feels good. Feels like something is touching you from the inside out, god, being with him is so consuming. You want him. All of him. All the time. Everywhere. 

“Feels so good, Harry. Feel so full.” You whimper as you grind back against him, your skin singing with relief at finally feeling sated. 

When you finally open your eyes you moan again at the sight of Harry reflected back on the glass in front of you. His hair is cascading down to fall in front of his eyes, trembling with the movement of his thrusts. And he’s leaving indents in your skin, bruises you’ll marvel at in the morning. But the best part is watching him fuck you. 

He looks beautiful. Sliding his tongue over his mouth, biting into his lips as he loses himself in staring at the junction between your pussy and his cock. Watching himself disappear inside of you with each stutter and slide of his hips. When he looks up to find you staring at him, he smiles so wide and soft that it makes you tighten around him. 

“Harry,” you whimper. You want to say more but your words feel caught in your throat. He feels so good. 

“M’close, angel. You had me so hard at the table. I wanna come so bad.” 

He gathers you closer and sneaks his fingers into the space between your thighs and the sink and starts rubbing your swollen clit with two fingers. Your elbows almost lose their footing on the counter when he touches you, the sensation makes you feel like your knees could buckle. 

“Oh my god, Harry-”

“You gonna come for me baby? Gonna coat my cock?”

“Yes-yes. God. Please-”

Your scalp stings where he reaches up to pull a handful of your hair. Your spine has no choice but to arch back. It hurts in the best kind of way. 

“I’m gonna make you come so hard. But you have to stay with me, okay? Listen to me, love. You’re the only one I want.” You grit your teeth on a particularly hard thrust, his hips seeming to punctuate every word of his promise. “I love you. I love you. I only want to make you come. I only want you.”

“Me too, Harry. Me too,” you squeeze his hand, reaching back to grip his hair and meet his open mouth with your lips and kiss him over your shoulder. You clench your eyes shut as you fuck back against him, meeting the slide of his thrusts with the shaking of your hips. Your throat feels heavy at his words, but your brain feels like it’s scattering. You’re so close-

“You’re shaking,” he laughs, his voice heavy with astonishment. You can only hum in response. His lips press against your forehead quickly. “Give it to me, love. Give me fuckin’ everything. I’ll catch you. I need you to come for me. _Please_ fuckin’ come for me.”

Your body obeys him before your mind can think, you’re so weak for him. Your shoulders are shaking so hard from the effort of trying not to scream his name. It burns in your throat and on your tongue, and you try to bite your lip through it. 

“Harry,” you gasp. “Harry-”

He grips your face tenderly as if he can recognize how torn you feel. “That’s it, baby. My good girl. Did so well for me, angel. Gonna make me come too-” 

“Yes-yes. Come Harry. God. Come. I want to feel it-”

And that always does it, your begging him. He can never resist the ache in your voice. He moans into your mouth and he’s uttering your name as he lets himself let go. You talk him through it too, telling him how much you love him, how he looks so good when he comes, how you wanna feel it deep. His cock is pulsing when he’s done, and his mouth reluctantly relents, letting go of your lips as his neck rolls back and he tries to catch his breath. His release settling inside of you in a way that makes you feel soothed. Harry feels dizzy, almost delirious with relief. 

“ _Fuckin’ Christ,_ ” he laughs, sinking his weight onto you. You don’t mind though, loving the press of him against your back. He kisses a path up your spine. “I’m so glad I get to marry you. Get to fuck you for the rest of my life.”

You giggle from beneath his chin. “And here I thought you liked me for my brain,” you tease. 

“I do,” he says. “Love your brain. And your laugh. And your cunt. All your parts, really.”

Because there’s no time to linger in the afterglow when you’re worried about someone knocking on the door, or a line forming outside, and you still have to go pay the bill for dinner - you laugh, but reluctantly squeeze Harry’s arm and kiss the side of his face.

“Babe-” you say softly. 

“Mmm, okay,” he says. 

He groans as he grasps your back, and just like in the dining room, he laughs softly when you frown as he pulls out of you. A reluctant whimper grazing your lips as your bodies separate. You take a moment to both pull yourselves together. Harry wetting towels and wadding up your underwear to get you cleaned up. 

“I’ll buy you another pair,” he laughs at the twisted look on your face when he throws them in the trash bin. 

“You better,” you joke as you try to fish your compact out of your purse. Harry leans back to watch you, he thinks it’s one of his favorite things to do. Watching you get ready for work in the morning, putting on perfume and pulling on your stockings. The way you always stop to give him a kiss before you leave, no matter how full your arms are of bags and lunch and coffee, art projects and homework. Or watching you get undressed and ready for bed at night, taking off your makeup and putting your lotion and nightgowns on. The way you smell after you come into your bedroom after a long bath. The way you never go to sleep without nudging him for a kiss good night, and the way your mouth always lingers before he leaves for a trip that will take him far away from you.

He’s caged you in again, one arm on the mirror watching you try to fix the smudged mess your mouth has become from his lips.

“Did you mean what you said?” you ask him. You press a tender kiss to the cross on his hand and his wrist. He’s kind enough to indulge you-

“‘Course I do. Would hang up the fuckin’ moon for ya, I love you so much. I wanna give you my last name. Wanna give you everything.”

You turns in his embrace so your back is to the mirror and you can look him in the eyes. He cups the back of your neck with his long fingers and cradles your face with the other. And you grasp both of his hands with yours and let him kiss you once, twice, again with his teeth softly grazing your bottom lip. 

“I’m yours,” he promises. “I only ever want ‘ta be yours.” 

Your eyes soften. He always manages to hit you out of nowhere with sweeping declarations like this and it makes you feel like you’d be crying if you were somewhere with more time and not just hiding in the bathroom of a restaurant, having just had a sneaky -albeit mindblowingly amazing - fuck. 

“You’re mine and I’m yours, Harry,” you vow. “Mine and yours."

He grins. “S’what I’ve been trying to tell you! _God. Stubborn._ ” 

He wraps both of his arms around your middle and you settle back against him, affording a second to laugh. His lips feel warm against your temple, and wet against your neck. 

“Gotta admit though. I love when you get territorial. Gettin’ all possessive, love. Bit of a turn on. Should see you jealous more often.” You watch him as he pulls the straps of your dress back up and wraps himself around you like a shadow. His face resting in your neck, pressing soft sweet, wet kisses. 

“Yeah? We could flip it. Might not be so fun when Chad at work asks me to go out for dinner or a drink when my boyfriend is out of town.”

“Hey. Hey. _Fiancé,_ ” he emphasizes with his fingers on your chin. His eyebrows wrinkling together for good measure as he flutters his fingers in front of your face. “Wait. Has he really?”

Harry meets your gaze in the mirror as you nod and explain. “So many times while you were on tour. Always knew -somehow- when you were out of town. Think he might have had your schedule memorized more than me.”

Harry groans. “Ugh. Twat. Fuckin’ Chad.” 

“Might have to assert your dominance, Harold. Gotta show him who I belong to.” You laugh. 

“Yeah? How would I do that?” Harry plays along. “Should I show up at school and fuck you in your office again? On your desk? In your classroom?”

You giggle, but feel your core flutter at the thought. Last time he did that, you couldn’t look at your desk for _weeks._

You leave Harry’s offer open ended as you kiss his cheeks, his lips, his neck. He grunts when you press your mouth to his Adam’s Apple and dip your tongue and teeth into the indention in his throat that makes him melt. His favorite spot.

You reach up to wrap your arms around Harry’s neck, brushing his hair from his cheekbones. He’s growing it out long again and he looks beautiful. Your fingers are fisted around the cross on his neck and the collar of his shirt, keeping it open. And when you look up at him, his lips are beautifully puffy and blistered, a few shades short of the lipstick you are wearing.

He stares down at you, smirking and half serious.

“Want her to see the mark you left on my neck, huh?”

“Looks like a vampire had her way with your throat, babe,” you affirm, cupping his neck, your voice filled with pride at your own dirty work. 

He’s beaming when you look at him. “Photographer outside will probably get a shot of you lookin’ freshly fucked too.”

 _“Harry.”_ You jab him in the ribs, pretending to be scandalized, yelping when he squeezes your hip in retaliation.

You finish shimmying your dress back down your legs. Not bothering to tend to the mess your hair has become from when Harry fisted his fingers in it. Harry gives you a coy and knowing smile as he pulls the lock and door open, positive that you want to wear it like some sort of badge of honor, just like the marks on his neck. 

When you get back to the table, the agony you felt in your chest earlier has all but disappeared - but not the need to show that Harry is yours. Harry can recognize it too, especially when you ask him to leave you alone with the check and wait by the entrance. 

_“Baby,”_ his voice narrows, but his lips are lifting at the edges. 

“I’ll be nice. Go.” 

You see Giselle catch him on the way to the door, her eyes widening when she takes in Harry’s open shirt. Your heart swells when you see him walk past her without as much as a nod. 

She catches you watching and you can see she’s trying to bury the deflated look on her face as she walks towards you, taking in your disheveled hair, your smudged lipstick. 

“Is Harry okay?”

“Harry’s fine, Giselle. In fact, he’s engaged,” you muse. “I don’t think your boss would find it very professional if they found out you were trying to slip guests your phone number while you were on the clock.”

You give her your best and broadest smile as you push the bill and cash towards her - plus a $200 tip, with her phone number facing up. You know she doesn’t miss it either, the gleam of your antique engagement ring catching and sparkling in the candlelight. It’s a vintage five carat showstopper, you know that’s why Harry picked it. It stops anyone who sees it. And you can tell because Giselle looks mortified, like she’s choking on her own confidence as she stares at it. 

She turns red. “I’m so sorry-” she stammers.

“Next time, make sure he’s single first. Yeah? Or maybe stop talking long enough to realize whether or not he wants you too before you humiliate yourself. _Again._ ” You narrow your eyes and tilt your head. “Have a good night, Giselle.”

You don’t miss the way she shrinks back a little when you get up and walk past her. 

When you find him again, Harry is staring at you, his eyebrows raised. He throws you a cautious but amused, beautiful smirk as you approach. 

“There’s my misses,” he says. He extends his hand for you when you get close and you take it. “Did you get into a fight, stubborn?” 

You shake your head. “No. I left her a big tip. Decided to kill her with some kindness.”

Harry’s eyes are fond as they look at you. “That’s my girl,” he says. 

He laughs as you draw up on your toes to pull him down with both arms for a kiss, the hand with your engagement ring fisting in his hair. 

He presses both hands into the middle of spine and kisses you back. When you draw apart you don’t have to look through the window to see some cameras trying to disappear out of view. He knows what you’re doing. You’re not usually like this and neither is Harry, but you’re grateful he allows you this scene - some part of you is surprisingly thrilled at the idea of this photo. At least a few days worth of articles with you captured in front of this restaurant. Your name alongside Harry’s. Not some model, not some singer, just regular old _you_ \- who gets to share his bed and his house and -someday soon- his name. 

“ _Baby,_ ” he whines into your ear. “That looked a bit...intense.”

“Did it?” you play along. 

“She looked scared shitless, love.” he admits. “Looked like you were so close to hittin’ her.”

“I felt like I could,” you laugh. “Had to show her not to mess with what’s mine. Think your ring kind of shut her up.”

He smirks, looking down to where your hands are joined. His thumb running over the diamond on your finger. 

“Mmm, got me kind of...stirred up watching.”

Your eyes widen. “Harry! _Jesus._ You could get hard at the drop of a hat, I swear.”

“You sayin’ it like it’s a bad thing?”

“Harry-” His hands lose themselves in your hair again. You react by tilting your neck back so he can lean down to kiss you, with both of his hands on your face, effectively shutting you up.

“I love you,” he huffs. “But can we please get the hell out of here. Really want to go home and make _really_ loud love to my _fiancé.._ ”

“Do you now?” you tease against his jaw.

“Reckon we can be loud enough that that knob Chad hears us from his house?” His eyes flash up, and he grins at you as you laugh harder. “Just wanna be yours.” 

And how can you argue with that? You laugh as he tugs you under your arm, and you peer over his shoulder to wave and flash Giselle your ring - savoring the bewildered and embarrassed look on her face one last time- before you and Harry both disappear into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, this was like a sequel to [Mine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22333270), which was my first Harry story! It was really fun writing jealous!reader this time. If you enjoyed this, please leave me some kudos or comments, I would love to hear your thoughts! Thank you for reading. 
> 
> Come fangirl with me over on Tumblr: [@thejenniferincident](http://thejenniferincident.tumblr.com) and my writing page [@kissesinthekitchen](http://kissesinthekitchen.tumblr.com). I would love to have you. <3


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